Then the work at the
factory would have continued, with a possibly curtailed payroll. No need
for high-handed pirates armed with revolvers _then_. That was the end the
arch-fiend was working for. The end that never came."
"H'm. And may I ask how you discovered all this, before going into the
case of Borkins?" put in the judge.
Cleek bowed.
"Certainly," he returned. "That is the legal right. But I can vouch for
my evidence, my lord. I received it, you see, at first-hand. This man
Borkins engaged both the lad Dollops and myself as new hands for the
factory. We therefore had every opportunity of looking into the matter
personally."
"Gawdamercy! I never did!" ejaculated Borkins, at this juncture, his face
the colour of newly-baked bread. "You're a liar--that's what you are! A
drorin' an innocent man into the beastly affair. I never engaged the
likes of _you_!"
"Didn't you?" Cleek laughed soundlessly. "Look here. Remember the man
Bill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?" He writhed
his features for a moment, slipped his hand into his pocket, and
producing the black moustache that had been Dollops's envy and
admiration, stuck it upon his upper lip, pulled out a check cap from the
other pocket, drew that upon his head, and peered at Borkins under the
peak of it.
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